


Daedalus

by JQ (musicmillennia)



Series: ColdWave Week 2016 [1]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, honestly I don't know how to tag this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-14
Updated: 2016-03-14
Packaged: 2018-05-26 18:35:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6250945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musicmillennia/pseuds/JQ
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[ColdWave Week, Day 1: In Captivity]</p><p>"My son has birds in his head.<br/>I know them now.<br/>I catch the pitch of their calls,<br/>their shrill cacophonies,<br/>their chitterings,<br/>their coos."<br/>(Alistair Reid)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Daedalus

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not...OVERLY happy with this. I feel like it could have grown into something fantastic. Maybe I'll return to this at a later date, when I'm not so overstressed.

This morning, Len’s eyelids stick peanut butter thick to each other...right, celebratory drinks. Couple shots of tequila will give you a hangover. He peels them open, blinks a few times to adjust to their cell’s dim lighting.

Their cell...right, celebratory drinks led to his and Mick’s arrest. Len’s usually careless when he’s got a couple shots in him; his dad had to carry him home on more than a couple occasions when he was first starting out at, oh, how old was he? Twelve? Maybe.

Mick’s face is above him, shadowing the sunlight peering into their barred window. The warmth of his lap registers along the back of Len’s head, neck, and top of his shoulders.  It’s---nice. Not that they don’t do this often, but every time, Len enjoys it.

“Still got about an hour before your dad picks us up,” Mick tells him. Len hums, already drifting off again. “Remind me not to give you any more t _r_ e _n_ quil _i_ a, _z_ ever.”

Len scoffs. Dozes off.

What feels like seconds later, his dad’s yanking him to his feet and dragging him out of their cell. Their cell...right. Le _n_ wis got ca _ke_ u _p_ ght again.

Len stumbles in an effort to keep up with his fast pace. They turn numerous corners---Len quickly loses count---before returning home.

“Go check on your sister,” Lewis snaps, kicking him to the stairs. Len purses his lips and obeys.

Lisa’s playing with her dolls, the picture of innocence. Sunlight fills her room in a pinkish glow, creating a vague halo around her pretty curls. She beams when she sees her brother.

“Lenny!” she cries(…? Oh, happy tears. Len’s heart warms.) “Wa _k_ nna pla _e_ y dress up?”

Len feels his lips twitch into a tiny smile. “How about I watch?”

Lisa cheers, sits him on her bed.

“Clo _p_ s _e_ your eyes!”

Len does.

When he opens them, Lisa’s all in gold, testing her gun. Len cracks his neck and pushes to his feet.

“Where’s Mick?” He asks, flatly, because for fuck’s sake the man’s never where he needs him to be.

“He _r_ ll _e_ if I kn _y_ ow,” Lisa mutters. She’s never too talkative when she’s focused on her precious trigger.

Scratching his forehead, Len grabs his gun. “I’ll look for him.”

Lisa’s laughter follows him: “Good luck!”

Len opens the warehouse door and enters the prison. Guards assault him, cuff his empty hands. He’s dragged through numerous corridors. Pushed into their room.

“ _Mick_ ,” he snaps, rubbing his wrists as he shoves Mick over on their bed.

“What?” grunts Mick, rolling over to hog the sheets, _again_ , “I’s my bed too.”

Len snatches the sheets back. He’s got a headache; he doesn’t have time for this shit. They wrestle for a bit before he makes an irritated noise and resigns himself to curling around his partner.

“We’ll just share, Mick,” he mutters.

Mick responds with a drawl of, “ _Yes sir_.”

Len closes his eyes.

The next morning, Len’s eyelids stick peanut butter thick to each other.

**Author's Note:**

> I thought about doing a good old prison fic. And I really did approach this with that intent. Honest.
> 
> Just didn't work.
> 
> So yeah. Len was PURPOSELY out of character. 
> 
> Italics were not typos. Care to see if you can translate their messages? I didn't want to overcomplicate them, so I hope they're not too confusing.
> 
> Thank you for reading! HAPPY COLDWAVE WEEK! :D


End file.
